Minority of six
by Clogs
Summary: The flock are no longer living under the radar. When their new found fame attracts some unnecessary attention, can Max protect the ones she loves?
1. The truth is still the truth

Minority of six

The flock are no longer living under the radar, but all good things come at a cost. When their new found fame attracts unwanted attention, can Max protect the ones she loves?

When I say I've been through a lot, you know I mean a lot. Not your 'bullied at school', 'death in the family' sort of lot. No. God, do I envy you. I'm talking about the 'wake up to find myself in a different place to where I fell asleep, seperated from my family, gagged, and trapped in a dog cage' sort of lot. But I never could get used to hearing a total stranger shout insults at me and my family, his children cowering behind him with hate in their eyes.

I'm probably getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I? Let me fill you in.

My name is Maximum Ride. It's been roughly a year since my flock and I destroyed the last remnants of Itex, all the heads on our hydra. Coming out of hiding was very counter-intuititve for me. It takes a while to get out of the whole, trust no one but the flock, help no one but the flock routine, but I'm getting used to it. Or I was, anyway. See, it seems the good ol' US of A doesn't take to kindly to foreigners, not least those with avian DNA grafted to them as babies, those you wouldn't exactly describe as 'human', whatever that means nowadays. We could be a threat! What if we suddenly go nuts? How can we be let into society, being such savages? Oh, we've tried to have our story heard, but who listens to a minority of six?

"-reports that the government are considering banning all genetic experimentation, and disposing of the test subjects in a thorough manner," the man in the wacky tie on the TV read somberly. Fang snorted and switched off the TV.  
"Thorough manner", he said, wrapping finger quotes delicately around the words. "Translation?"  
Iggy made a finger gun. "Boom."

We try to keep a low profile nowadays, but it doesn't always work. Fang and I walked, hand in hand, along the pavement, off to fetch supplies to bring back to 'the nest', as we fondly called our new home, a small, but big enough house in the outskirts of New York. My wings ached for being pressed so tightly against my back, begged me to let them loose and soar through the clouds, feel the wind in my hair, the power behind every downwards stroke. At least we still had some of the kids on our side. We had Fang's blog, aptly named 'The Truth is Still the Truth', to thank for that.  
"Hey, is that Fang, man?"  
"Dude, he's awesome."

Raptor hearing ensured we could still hear their whispers, which would probably stay as whispers. They wouldn't dare tell that to their parents. We continued the long walk, short fly, to the grocery store. I'd never really seen this side of civilisation before we settled down (or attempted to), and I hated it. So many protocols, so much waiting in line. Dumpster diving really did have its advantages. I instictively moved closer to Fang as we entered the small store, and he instinctively put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head, which was all I really needed to brighten my day.

"Heya, Laura," I called to the girl in the brown workshirt who stood behind the counter. She ran over to us and grabbed me in a big hug, which I returned gratefully.  
"Heya, sweetie!" she grinned, high-fiving the not-so-huggable Fang, who still returned her smile. Laura was impossible to be grumpy around: one of those people whom life just couldn't get down, a real trooper, and a true friend. My day was looking up.  
But, of course, that couldn't last. Fang and I were inspecting cereal after cereal (he was picky like that), when I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun cocking. I spun around, wide eyed, only to see Laura, stapler in hand, struggling with a giant "Birdseed: Buy one get one free!" banner.  
"We're in luck," Fang whispered to me, and I giggled. We paid, left, and started to head back.

The thick New York smog clung to the ground, smothering us. Even with the poor visibility, however, we were still recognised and shunned by the general adult population. Fang and I walked stiffly through the insults, bag in one hand, each other's in the other. One guy, who I would have considered 'cute' in different circumstances, threw an empty can at me, and would have hit if Fang hadn't caught and returned it at twice the speed, hitting him square between the eyes. The aching in my wings suddenly became unbearable again, and I increased my pace to a slight run. Fang followed, grinning like a madman. He knew what was coming next. Sure, the government had told us not, under any circumstances, to fly in public, but since when did we listen to authority? Screw 'em. Whooping, I unfurled my wings and leapt into the air, relishing in the freedom.


	2. 2: Old faces

Minority of Six is updated every Sunday night.

Entering through the top floor windows never gets old. Then again, neither does quickly kissing Fang before entering said window. Simple pleasures. Iggy and Gazzy were wrestiling over the PS3 controller and Nudge and Angel were watching them with a shared distaste as we hopped down onto the sofa, watching their eyes light up as we presented the goodies from our trip. Iggy headed to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal, and I took the liberty of lying down on a whole sofa, tuning out the world, the sounds of traffic, the... hurried footsteps approaching our door?  
"I'll get it..." I muttered just as the doorbell rang, springing up from the sofa and wandering drowsily through the hall to the front door. Yanking it open revealed... Jeb?  
"Max," he panted, "you need to listen to me." He took a frantic look behind him, which was when I noticed the battered FBI car, his tattered shirt, his normally calm exterior replaced with a panic that even he couldn't fake. Making one of my infamous split second decisions, I waved him inside and slammed the door behind me. Slamming myself down on a sofa next to an invisible Fang, the flock gathered in the living room as Jeb entered. Jeb had taken up a job at the government after Itex fell, because he knew us so well, so we knew that his arrival could mean one of two things:  
1. We had broken one (or more than one) of our restrictions, and were gonna be punished.  
2. Death in the family/ groundbreaking news.  
I had grown up enough to forgive Jeb in the past year, but did I think of him as a father? No. But I still trusted what he had to say, and always heard him out. Fang, however, was out for blood, becoming visible again.  
"Bullshit!" he exclaimed in a rare (well, getting more common) outburst of emotion, "so some jackass is allowed to chuck a can at my girlfriend, but I'm not allowed to chuck it back?" Jeb looked confused.  
"What? No!" he said. "Wait, girlfriend?" he asked, finally noticing Fang's arm around my shoulder. He blinked a couple times. "Whatever," he continued, and I admired him for keeping his cool, but felt a teeny bit let down that he didn't get annoyed so I could argue with him.  
"No. I'm here because of this," he said, slamming a crisp sheet of paper down on our coffee table. I snatched it up, attempting to make sense of all the five dollar words that littered the document.  
"Have I got this thing the wrong way up?" I asked in mock curiosity, passing it to Fang. Jeb sighed impatiently.  
"It says the government are going to wipe out all of the genetic experiments," he explained, "starting with you." 


End file.
